The end of the fourth week brought a shift at the rehab center. Mihika found herself standing in front of the mirror a little longer than usual, adjusting her hair. It was a habit she didn't want to acknowledge.

Aarush's recovery was nothing short of a miracle. Maybe it was his athlete's DNA, or maybe it was the sheer willpower of a man who refused to let his dreams die, but his progress had surpassed every clinical chart Mihika had ever studied.

She walked into the private gym area where Aarush was finishing a set of weighted leg extensions. He was in a black sleeveless dry-fit tee and gym shorts. His muscles rippled with every movement, and a thin layer of sweat made his skin glow under the gym lights.

Mihika stood by the door, watching him for a moment. He looked powerful, focused, and incredibly handsome. She felt a familiar flutter in her stomach, a sensation she had spent the last two weeks trying to diagnose as stress, even though she knew better.

"Impressive."

She said, stepping into the room.

"I've never seen a Grade 2 tear heal this fast."

Aarush stopped his reps and looked at her, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. He wiped his face with a towel and walked toward her. He didn't limp anymore, his stride was confident.

"Maine bola tha na, Doctor Sahiba. Give me a chance and I'll surprise you."

(I told you, Doctor Sahiba.)

He said, stopping just a few inches away from her. The height difference was more noticeable now that he was standing. Mihika had to look up to meet his eyes.

"So, what's the verdict? Can I start field practice next week?"

Mihika checked his latest reports on her tablet, trying to stay professional despite how close he was standing.

"The swelling is gone. Honestly, Aarush...I think you're ready. If we continue the high-intensity sessions this week, you'll be on that field for the National Cup."

Aarush let out a loud shout of joy. Without thinking, he reached out, grabbed Mihika by her waist, and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around once.

"Aarush! Chhodo! What are you doing?"

(Aarush! Leave me!)

She gasped, her hands instinctively landing on his broad shoulders for balance. He set her down but didn't let go immediately. His hands stayed on her waist for a second too long.

"Sorry, sorry! Main bas bohot khush hoon."

(I’m just too happy.)

He whispered, his voice dropping in a whisper. He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers.

"Thank you, Mihika. Seriously. Mere liye tumse badi cheerleader aur koi nahi ho sakti."

(For me you are the biggest cheerleader.)

Mihika stepped back, her heart drumming against her ribs.

"I'm your doctor, Aarush. Don't get the roles mixed up."

Aarush leaned against a weight rack, crossing his arms. The playful glint in his eyes turned into something more intense, something more deliberate.

"Role mix up toh tab hota hai jab roles clear ho. Right now, I'm not sure I just see a doctor when I look at you."

(Role mix would happen when roles would be clear.)

Mihika felt a rush of heat to her cheeks.

"Tumhe rest ki zaroorat hai. Dimaag zyada chal raha hai tumhara."

(You need rest. Your brain is working too much.)

She muttered, turning to walk away.

"Dimaag nahi, Mihika...dil chal raha hai."

(Not brain, Mihika…my heart is working.)

He called out after her.

"And for the record, you look really pretty when you try to act all strict and fail."

Over the next few days, the dynamic shifted from friendly banter to undeniable flirting. Aarush didn't hide his intentions anymore. He was a man used to going after what he wanted.

One evening, they were in the recovery lounge. Mihika was showing him some sports-specific stretches. She was kneeling on the mat, demonstrating a pose, when she noticed him just staring at her, ignoring the instructions.

"Aarush, are you even paying attention? Tumhe left leg stretch karni hai, right nahi."

(You have to stretch your left leg, not right.)

"I am paying attention."

He replied softly.

"Main dekh raha hoon ki how your eyes get small when you're explaining something serious. It's cute."

(I am seeing how your eyes get small when you’re explaining something serious.)

Mihika sighed, sitting back on her heels.

"Aarush, stop. We've talked about this. I'm 29. You're 27. I'm your doctor. You are a national star. This...whatever you're doing...it's not realistic."

Aarush sat on the floor opposite her. He looked at her with a maturity that contradicted his usual playful persona.

"Do saal ka gap? Seriously? Is that your best excuse?"

(Two years gap?)

He asked, shaking his head.

"And as for the star thing...yahan is room mein, main star nahi hoon. I'm just a guy who was scared his life was over, and you were the one who held my hand. That means something to me, Mihika."

(And as for the star thing…here in this room, I am not a star.)

"It's just a crush, Aarush. You're in a vulnerable state. You're grateful for the treatment, and you're confusing that with something else."

Aarush reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was light, but it sent a shiver through her entire body.

"Confusion tab hoti hai jab emotions clear na ho. I'm very clear. Tumhe darr lag raha hai because you've lived your whole life by the book. Career, discipline, logic. Par love logic se nahi chalta, Doctor Sahiba."

(Confusion happens when emotions are not clear. I’m very clear. You are scared because you’ve lived your whole life by the book. Career, discipline, logic. But love doesn’t work on logic, Doctor Sahiba.)

Mihika bit her lip. He was right. She was terrified. She was a woman who liked control, and Aarush was a whirlwind that threatened to blow her world apart. He was younger, he was famous, and his life was lived in the public eye. She was a woman who valued her privacy and her professional reputation.

"I can't do this."

She whispered, though she didn't move away.

"You don't have to do anything."

Aarush said, his voice a low rumble.

"Just stop fighting it. Let's just see where this goes. Please?"

The final week of his stay arrived. Aarush was back on his feet, doing light drills with the football in the centre’s private courtyard. He moved with such grace, the ball appearing to be an extension of his body. He was ready.

A knock on her door startled her. It was Aarush. He was dressed looking ready to leave.

"Packing done?"

She asked, trying to keep her voice light.

"Haan. Gaadi wait kar rahi hai."

(Yes. Car is waiting.)

He said, walking into her office. 

"I'm going to miss this place."

Mihika felt a sudden pang of sadness. For a month, her world had revolved around him. The silence that would follow his departure felt daunting.

"Make sure you keep up with the icing."

She said.

"And no over-exertion in the first few days. Listen to your body."

Aarush walked up to her desk. He didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver whistle on a chain.

"Yeh kya hai?"

(What is this?)

She asked.

"My first whistle. When I was ten, my coach gave it to me because I was the only kid who never gave up, even when I was injured. It's my lucky charm. I want you to keep it."

Mihika looked at the small object.

"Aarush, I can't take this. It's your luck."

He didn't say anything but took her hand and placed the whistle in her palm, closing her fingers over it.

"If I score a goal in the finals, I'm going to look into the cameras and point to my heart. That will be for you."

Mihika felt tears prickling her eyes. She had never let anyone in this close.

"Tum bohot filmy ho, you know that?"

(You are very filmy, you know that?)

She said, a tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. Aarush wiped the tear away with his thumb.

"Sirf tumhare liye. Because you deserve a little bit of drama in your boring, perfect life."

(Only for you.)

He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers for a fleeting second.

"I'll call you tonight. Don't you dare ignore my phone, Mihika."

Mihika nodded, unable to find her voice. As Aarush walked out of the door, he stopped and turned back one last time.

"Waise...I forgot to tell you. My mom saw your photo on my phone yesterday. She said, Ladki boht pyaari hai, Aarush. Shaadi kab kar raha hai?"

(By the way…I forgot to tell you….She said, the girl is very pretty, Aarush. When are you getting married?)

Mihika laughed through her tears, picking up a pen and jokingly throwing it at him.

"Jaao yahan se, Aarush! Go win that cup!"

(Go, Aarush!)

"I will!"

He grinned, his eyes full of promise.

"And then I'm coming back to win my girl."

As his footsteps faded down the hall, Mihika sat down in her chair, clutching the silver whistle. Her heart was racing, her mind was a mess, and for the first time in 29 years, she didn't care about the rules. The National Cup was in 10 days, but Mihika realized that the real game, the one involving her heart, had already been won.